


give me the blues (and then purple pink skies)

by wesawbears



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Friendship, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Reincarnation, lots of banter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25598548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesawbears/pseuds/wesawbears
Summary: Jaskier is in love with his (sort of) college roommate, Geralt, whose obsessed with ancient monsters and the history of the continent. In a desire for inspiration, and to prove to Geralt that he was finding the most boring records, he finds a book in the library by a poet, Dandelion. Imagine his surprise when he finds himself and Geralt as characters in the book.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49





	1. Were There Clues I Didn't See?

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by the song "invisible string" by Taylor Swift and PrettyDemonBoy immediately saying that it should be a Geraskier modern au. So here it is! Enjoy! I can't promise updates to be on any specific days, but I'll try my best.

Jaskier hurried up the steps to his dorm, trying not to drop the stack of sheet music huddled in his arms. He was usually in too much of a hurry after practicing to put it away, which didn’t become a problem until the last flight of stairs before his floor. Thankfully, his room was pretty close to the door, so he was able to get in and slam the door before dropping his things to the floor.

“Phew! That was close.”

Geralt didn’t even look up. “Fuck off, Jaskier, I’m reading.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and sat at the edge of Geralt’s bed. “You’re always reading. You have, in fact, walked in on me quite literally having sex and started reading, so forgive me for interrupting your inner sanctum.”

Geralt smirked at that. “It’s my room, and you didn’t put it on the calendar.”

“I’d make a joke about you being insufferably anal, but it feels a bit on the nose.”

“You could always try staying in your own room.”

Jaskier sighed and flopped against Geralt’s knee, noting how Geralt moved to accommodate him. “I don’t see Valdo getting a personality transplant any time soon, so I could not try that.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier scooted up, craning his neck to try to catch a glimpse at the page. “Whatcha reading?”

“It’s about old mythology. Mythical creatures.”

“Like…”

Geralt tilted the book forward, revealing a picture of something that looked uncomfortably like a giant spider. “It was called a kikkimora.”

“Please don’t tell me those were real at one point.”

“Not...really. But they were important to the mythologies people had.”

Jaskier nodded. Geralt was a history major, and his thesis was all about what people found monstrous in the years after the Conjunction. No one actually knew what was real about the stories, but Geralt talked about them like they were about to jump out at any minute, like something out of Jaskier’s apocalyptic nightmares.

“Hmm…” Jaskier mused, starting to hum a soft melody. “The spider spat its venom-”

“They didn’t spit.”

“You are so literal. It’s art!”

“It’s inaccurate.”

“Artistic license.”

“Incredible how you can make a giant spider boring.”

Geralt hummed and turned back to his book. For all his blustering, Geralt let Jaskier stay there, answering Jaskier’s questions and bringing up interesting facts as he read them. It was something of a tradition with them, Geralt’s voice calming Jaskier after a long day and Jaskier giving Geralt an outlet for his niche interests. It was the closest thing to domesticity Jaskier could remember.

After a bit, Geralt tapped his side, making him sit up. “Wha’ time is it?” Jaskier slurred.

“Like 8. I said I would help Yen study after her shift.”

Jaskier snorted. “Yennefer has never needed help studying in her life.”

Geralt shrugged. “Wanna come?”

“Think I’ll pass. I gotta go to the library anyway. I’ll walk out with you.”

Geralt nodded and grabbed his jacket. Jaskier only took a brief moment to admire how good Geralt looked in leather.

“Ready?”

“Always.”

\--

They parted ways when they reached the library, and Jaskier headed in, waving to his friend Priscilla who was working the circulation desk. Normally he would stop to chat and get glared at by all the students frantically writing papers before the building closed, but for now he was on a mission. He made his way up to where all of Geralt’s nerdy books were. Unlike Geralt, he was looking for something a bit more narrative. 

While Geralt was great at getting through the facts, Jaskier knew you couldn’t really study stories, especially monster stories, without a touch of how people wrote about them. He would find a story about these kikkimoras, and see how they held up to Geralt’s research. He needed ideas for his own senior project, and was thinking of doing some kind of song cycle. Surely Geralt’s monsters could provide some inspiration.

With only a little bit of frustration, he found a volume of tales, taken down by someone called Dandelion. It was probably a pen name. Artists were as quirky back then as they were now, he supposed. Settling in his favorite comfy chair in the corner, he opened it. The prologue read:

“This bard’s tale begins in Posada, where my travels with the White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia began those many years ago…”

Jaskier paused. Geralt? That wasn’t a common name. Maybe Geralt’s mother had been as much of a history nerd as her son. It wasn’t like Geralt knew much about his origins. He read on.

The writer regaled Jaskier with the story of how he found himself in Posada, singing to ungrateful audiences, until one day he found himself in the company of a brooding stranger in the corner. 

According to the author, he walked up to the famed Witcher, as they were called, and said, “You don’t want to keep a man with...bread in his pants waiting.”

Jaskier almost dropped the book. Vividly, he remembered how he and Geralt had met, in the campus coffee shop. Jaskier had been pelted with bread by a disgruntled lover and had frantically pushed it into his pockets. He had thought himself terribly clever with his opening line, but all Geralt had said in reply was, “I’m here to drink alone.” It was the beginning of a strange friendship, and years of pining for Jaskier.

The next paragraphs found Jaskier recounting his experience, in fancy historical language, and a sense of awe and dread came over him.

Holy shit.


	2. And It's Cool, Baby, With Me

Jaskier managed to hide the book in his messenger bag, not wanting Geralt to see it. How the fuck did you explain something like that anyway? ‘Oh hi, I was in the library and managed to find a book about our historical dopplegangers laying around?’ He didn’t imagine it would go well.

The next afternoon though, he had some free time, and he decided to find someone with the same penchant for weirdness as him. 

How Yennefer managed to get the dorm that looked like a damn tower was beyond him, but her and Triss had the most secluded corner room on campus, which she had basically converted into a lab. Science majors were so weird, and no, he would not learn what the difference between chemistry and biology were, thank you very much.

When he entered, she was taking notes, her handwriting as precise and careful as the rest of her. He decided to jolt her concentration by letting the book thud heavily on her bed.

She glanced up at him, murder in her eyes. “Your social graces precede you, as always.”

“Sounds boring,” he said, flopping on her bed as she moved her papers out of the way.

She scoffed. “I thought you were rich. It’s a wonder you made it five minutes.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “There’s a reason I was allowed to go to university, my dear. And your life would be so dull without me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Is there a point to your barging into my room? You said it was urgent, yet I fail to see the urgency. Unless the bleeding is internal? Your brain, perhaps?”

He nudged the book. “Read it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I have many talents, but I fear if you’re just sitting here while I read an entire book, you’re going to be bored.”

“Just a few pages.”

It was a testament to their friendship that she indulged him and set the book primly in her lap and opened it. A few years ago he would have worried she was trying to burn him alive with her eyes, but by now he knew that was just Yennefer. They weren't as close as her and Geralt (he didn’t think he would live long enough to understand that relationship), but they had grown into an odd friendship of their own, if not because of proximity, then because of a shared strange sense of humor.

He watched as her face changed as she turned the pages. “Where did you find this?”

“It was just in the library. I was trying to help Geralt with his...stuff.”

“Have you learned about this...Dandelion?”

He shook his head. “I know a lot of poets, but I don’t usually pay attention to stuff that old. I’m about the future.” He gestured dramatically and she rolled her eyes.

“How far did you read?”

“Not very. Just the first story. I was too freaked out to read any more.”

She drummed her fingernails against the page. “What day is it?”

“It’s the, uh...fifteenth?”

“Shit.” 

“What...are we panicking about?”

“Read this.”

He glanced at the book and read the start of the story she had flipped to. It was describing some kind of banquet, held in honor of the Princess Pavetta-

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Pavetta’s birthday party is tonight.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Well, we’re going, obviously.”

Jaskier gave her a look. “You can’t be serious.”

“Aren’t you curious?”

“Of course I’m curious. But convincing Geralt to go to a party? He hasn’t gone to a party once.”

“He’ll go if you ask him.”

Jaskier snorted. “He will not.”

She sighed, as though Jaskier was a puppy that had just ripped up a favorite toy. “Ask him, Jaskier.”

He huffed and grabbed the book again. “You are, as always, no help.”

“I’ll see you tonight, Jaskier.”

\--

“No.”

“Come on Geralt, it’s one teeny, tiny favor. How hard could it be?”

Geralt leveled him with a look. “A night following you around while you flirt with anything that moves. Sounds fun.”

“Would it kill you to have fun for once, Geralt? It’s free booze, a...cheese tray? And...Yennefer in what I am sure will be a scathingly skimpy outfit. And you’ve been working so hard…”

“Hmm.”

He moved to place his hands on Geralt’s shoulders, digging his thumbs into a knot lightly, smiling when Geralt groaned a little.

“Come on. It’ll be good for you. Besides, would you really let me fend for myself? My face is far too pretty too pull off a broken nose. It would mess with the symmetry.”

“You could try not doing things that lead people to punch you.”

He placed his hands on his hips. “And where is the fun in that?”

“I find not being punched to be very fun.”

“Geralt…” he put on his best pout. “Please? For your very best friend in the entire world?”

Geralt’s face pinched. “I hate parties.”

“You can stand in the corner and brood the whole time. I just need you there to step in if someone gets too handsy. I promise.”

“The last time you promised to stay out of trouble, we ended up sleeping behind a bush.”

“Details, details.”

“My neck hurt for a month.”

Jaskier huffed. “I would be in your debt. Whatever you wanted. For...a month? Two months?”

Geralt pursed his lips. “Fine. But I’m not dancing, and we leave when I say.”

“Perfect! And, one more thing…” He rustled through the closet, to find the nice, dark jeans and sleek shirt he’d picked out with Yen’s help. He held them out proudly.

“I’m not wearing that.”

“Is looking hot really that offensive to you?”

“I look fine.” 

He pinched Geralt’s cheek. “Of course you do. But you could look-” he made a chef’s kiss motion.

Geralt hummed again, sounding resigned, but as though his arguments had fled. He snatched the clothes out of Jaskier’s hand. “Not a word.”

Jaskier made a zipping motion. “Of course not.”

With his task completed, he was left to find out what destiny had in store.


	3. Cold Was the Steel of My Axe to Grind

The party was already in full swing when they got there, with clusters of people on their way to inebriation lining the front lawn. Geralt was tight as a bowstring beside him, but he pressed on alongside Jaskier. He looked just as Jaskier had expected him to, which was both a blessing and a curse. Everything clung to exactly the right places, even with Geralt using his jacket as a shield. It took most of Jaskier’s mental energy to resist the urge to grip his forearm.

He felt the need to get a drink urgently once they got inside, and beelined for the nearest available booze. What it lacked in quality, it made up for in quantity, and Jaskier certainly needed quantity to make it through the night. By the time he made his way back to the corner Geralt had herded himself into, Yennefer was there, giving him a smug look as she sipped her drink.

“Only you can manage to look classy drinking out of a plastic cup,” he muttered.

She smirked and laughed a little. “One of my many talents.”

He looked around, trying to avoid her knowing glance. He had gotten them to the party, but now that they were here, he had no idea what he was waiting for. And as much as he loved Yennefer and Geralt separately, together they were impossible to deal with, since both of their favorite pastime was making fun of Jaskier.

He made his way over to a group of people from his composition class, and slowly relaxed into his element. He’s just about reached the best part of his story about sneaking back into the orchestra hall when he feels a tap on his shoulder.

“Ah, Valdo, lovely to see you, of course. Were you looking for something? Perhaps some writing advice? I’m a bit off kilter at the moment, but I’m sure I can whip up something...”

“Cut the shit. Where’s my bow?”

“Your...pardon?”

“My bow. I know you took it out of my case. I haven’t been able to play all week.”

Despite being in the middle of describing that very tale, he coaxed his face into neutrality. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about. Perhaps you misplaced it? Dropped it somewhere?”

Valdo moved forward and pulled him in by the collar of his shirt. “I know you have it. Until I have it back, I’d like some collateral.”

Jaskier scrambled to think of something. “Yes, well, ah-ah, Geralt!”

“What’s going on?”

“Your friend stole something from me. I’m asking for it back.”

Geralt looked at Jaskier, and Jaskier shot him a pleading look.

He sighed and looked back to Valdo. “When was this?”

“Thursday night.”

“Impossible. Jaskier ate too much cheese and was sick all night.”

The group around them snickered and Jaskier’s cheeks warmed. “That’s-exactly what happened. Lactose intolerance. It’s a real bitch.”

Valdo let him go at last. “Hmm. How unfortunate. I would be careful around the cheese tray then.” He smirked and left. 

Jaskier followed Geralt back to his chosen corner. “You complete ass.”

“I kept you from getting your ass kicked. Can you stay out of trouble for a couple hours?”

“I don’t know. I might decide to lose it at the cheese tray.”

Geralt chuckled. “Your funeral.”

Jaskier gave him a sour look, but kept his whining inside. “Thank you. For helping me.”

Geralt nodded and patted his arm. “Just…” An indecipherable look crossed his face, but he apparently thought better of whatever he was about to say. “Just try not to need it for the rest of the night.”

“I’ll do my best.”

He nodded and headed away in search of more to drink. Valdo’s face tended to have that effect on him. After that, he made his way outside to get a bit of fresh air. The music was better out there anyway, and he was considering finding someone to dance with to take his mind off of Geralt’s...everything.

He made his way into the middle of the pack, relaxing into the music. Normally he loves being the center of attention, but something about feeling like a small piece of a bigger group on the floor calmed him. After a few songs, he headed toward the edge of the crowd, only to be pulled out completely.

“Hey!” he cried, though his limbs refused to cooperate fully.

After making their way away from the party, he was dropped unceremoniously to the ground. When he looked up, it was Valdo staring down at him.

“Pity your bodyguard isn’t here.”

The next few moments are a flurry of pain. He was pretty sure he got a few good kicks in, but his reflexes were down enough that he wasn’t able to fully get them off of him.

Eventually, they left him after a final kick and Jaskier spat out some blood. He crawled over to a corner and sat up. He was bleeding and not breathing very well, but he fought to stay upright. He pulled his phone out with shaking hands and dialed Geralt’s number.

“Jaskier?”

“Geralt…” he managed to get out before he was caught by a coughing fit.

“Stay where you are. We’ll find you.”

He heard a click and then silence.

**Author's Note:**

> I promise this isn't going to be a fic where Yennefer is portrayed badly. In the next chapter, her and Jaskier are going to talk and I promise everyone is friends in this fic.


End file.
